Past Imperfect
by angelaumbrello
Summary: CatherineWarrick. BrassCatherine friendship. A serial killer is killing pedophiles and Catherine's past is coming back to haunt her.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I neither own the characters of CSI nor am I making any kind of profit by writing this story. Any brand names used in this story are also not the property of the author. On the other hand any characters that are not from the show or books are the property of the author. This disclaimer applies to the whole story.

**A/N:** this is the sequel to Five Cent Romance. It's not necessary to read it but it can't hurt. This will be darker than my usual fanfiction. This is also my first attempt at a case story, I am not a forensic scientist by any stretch of the imagination, so please forgive any errors. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome.

_Man...cannot learn to forget, but hangs on the past: however far or fast he runs, that chain runs with him. Friedrich Nietzsche_

**PAST IMPERFECT: chapter one**

Sometimes Catherine feels as if she has the word 'WELCOME' tattooed across her forehead in big bold letters and that every god known to man is using her as a doormat. How else can she explain getting a call twenty minutes shy of the end of shift - a double shift to be exact. She is tempted to plead out and use her supervisor position to delegate and have Warrick take the case, whatever it is. Not that the younger man hadn't pulled his own double, but she had promised to share a last meal with both her mother and daughter before they went on their respective summer vacations. Her daughter, Lindsey is to go visit her paternal grandparents in California while her mother is to go on an Alaskan cruise with her bridge club. Catherine is loath to break her promise and is hoping against hope for a simple B&E.

No such luck, the Gods and Fate have other plans.

Brass is calling from the scene and the veteran detective's description is terse and to the point. But it is enough to make the hair on the back of her head stand on end. A third body in a little over two weeks has turned up in Henderson - with the same M.O. as the first two. If there's any doubt that they're chasing a serial killer it's completely gone now. Neither Warrick nor Catherine are going to be seeing the underside of a blanket for a long time.

Snapping closed her cellphone after receiving the address, she sets off to find Warrick. What lethargy she had before is now replaced with a rush of adrenaline. She quickly makes her way down the lab corridors to the break room, certain that he's there. Her black heeled boots clicking against the floor is reminiscent of a machine gun. She's a woman on a mission and promise or not_ she is not _going to let a serial killer run free in _her_ city.

She finds Warrick in the break room as she suspected. His head is bent and he's completely absorbed in his paperwork. His pen flies quickly and smoothly over the annoying, soul-sucking, "justify every penny" government forms stacked in front of him.

She clears her throat gently to get his attention without startling him. Raising his head he gives a half smile which slowly disappears when he sees her demeanor.

"Please tell me it's not what I think it is." he pleads.

"I'm sorry War' but according to Brass our boy has struck again - left a third body in Henderson."

Trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes, he replies. "So much for sleep."

Giving a dry laugh she counters. "So much for a nice morning with Lindsey."

Getting up he stretches his long lean body trying to get the kinks out. He's tired, but alert. They've been chasing this guy for over two weeks - ever since the first body showed up in Enterprise. Warrick is just as determined as his companion to catch him - sleep be damned.

Walking towards the strawberry-blonde, they exit the break room together and make their way quickly to the parking lot and Warrick's Tahoe.

The sun had not yet started its long trek across the sky at 2 AM when the two criminalist step out of the labs and into the unusually cool night. Normally the temperature in a desert town like Vegas plummets to the point of requiring the CSIs to wear heavy coats and stocking caps while processing a night scene. But tonight it's cool enough to only require that a sweater be worn. Catherine is glad she had the foresight to wear her long sleeved blue sweater and heavy black pants - both form fitting of course - to work. Warrick too feels no need to wear a hat or coat, his long sleeve green shirt and black jeans providing ample protection.

Looking at the two of them as they walk across the parking lot to their vehicle, one could easily make the mistake of thinking they are actors doing research for a television show. With Catherine's porcelain skin, high cheekbones and clear blue eyes and Warrick's café au lait skin, athletic build and green eyes one could be hard pressed to think of them as two scientists working for the second best lab in North America. Of course if you did make that assumption you would be sorely mistaken. Singularly each investigator is formidable, together they are almost unstoppable.

Climbing in the driver's seat he waits for her to get in as well. He then starts the engine and drives toward Henderson.

"You know Cath' if the crime scene is similar to the others there'll probably be little evidence to collect. I can make a quick detour to your house, drop you off, go to the scene and collect whatever evidence is there. That way you can get some sleep _and _spend some time with Lindsey."

She shakes her head. "No, it's okay thanks anyway. I was there for the first one and I want to follow through to the end. Besides it's not like she even wants to spend time with me."

Stopping at a red light he turns to her and strokes her upper arm gently. "Hey, don't take it so personally. She's going through a phase, all kids do - they say that eleven is the new thirteen."

Turning her head to stare out the window she mumbles, "Right". Several seconds later the light changes and his hand recedes, leaving Catherine strangely cold and it has nothing to do with the weather. She doesn't have the strength to analyze it any further, nor does she have the strength to tell him that when she was Lindsey's age she would've given her right arm to have either her of her parents show her _any_ kind of affection. That she probably wouldn't have ended up the mess she is if someone had been there for her. That worst of all, she sees her daughter making the same mistakes she did and she feels powerless to do anything to stop it.

Approximately twenty-five minutes later they spy the familiar flashing lights of the LVPD's police cars, Brass' Taurus and the morgue's van_. They got set up awfully quick,_ Warrick muses to himself. Getting as close as he can Warrick parks the Tahoe. The neighborhood is familiar to both CSIs and the police even in the dark.

The crime scene itself is situated in an alley between _Ceres _convenience store and _Mama Rosa's _sub/pizza shop, both family owned and operated. They are both popular amongst many of the graveyard and swing shift employees despite there being closer places. This popularity is due in large part for their unusual hard to find items and friendly service, not to mention the 10 law enforcement discount.

Grabbing their kits and cameras from the back they take in the view before them. The scene has already been cordoned off by the all too familiar yellow tape. Making their way to the alley and victim, they duck underneath the tape and search for their colleagues. Brass is interviewing a couple - most likely the ones who found the body. Even from where the two investigators are standing it was a obvious that the woman was visibly upset at what she had just seen _I bet she won't be so eager to experiment any time soon, _Catherine thinks to herself. It is also a fair bet by the garish over the top way they're dressed that they're both most likely tourists. _Honeymooners perhaps? Or maybe they are just locals trying to spice up their sex life by doing it down an alley, _Catherine thinks in mild disgust. David meanwhile is crouched over the body, clipboard in hand, making out his preliminary autopsy report.

They approach the body and Warrick takes one last glance at Catherine and nearly trips. Her eyes are staring forward and if he had blinked he would have missed it.

Fear, panic - it's there and then it's gone in an instant, a momentary tightening of the lips, a strangled gasp, and the silent panic in the eyes. You have to be quick to notice. Or you have to really know someone - work many years side by side to have a keen sense of a person's true self to pick up any subtle changes.

Warrick has known/worked with Catherine for ten years and two days exactly.

"Do you know the victim?"

She shakes her head 'no' puts on her professional mask and goes to talk to David about the victim.

She had lied to Warrick but she did not fool him. He can see the microscopic cracks in her mask that he is certain that no one else can see. He makes a mental note to ask her about it later. To make her tell him the truth and not carry whatever it is that's bothering her alone.

Right now, there's a crime scene to process.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

The victim is a Caucasian male mid to late fifties. Height is difficult to ascertain because of the body's position but he looks to be approximately 165lbs. He is naked, shaved and posed in the fetal position approximately ten feet deep in the alley with his head facing the street. His eyes are closed and his lips are sawn together with black suture. His hands are bound together at the wrists with grey duct tape making him seem like a grotesque caricature of a pious man praying. _I wonder what he was praying for - mercy or a quick death, _Warrick thinks to himself grimly. If their killer has followed the same pattern as the previous two, this man suffered greatly before he was killed.

Death was most likely a blessing.

All finger and toenails have been cut nearly to the cuticle effectively eliminating any possible DNA evidence that may have been there.

The name _SPYDER _is tattooed in bold gothic letters across his upper back. As a matter of fact most of his arms and upper body, including his neck is covered in either spiders or spider-web tattoos, some new some old.

There are no visible signs of a struggle, but there is signs of heavy make-up used on his legs. Whoever did this didn't know or didn't care whether the make-up used matched the victims real skin color or not. Even in the bad lighting of the alley it's evident that the concealer used is at least two to three shades too dark. There's no visible blood splatter on or around the body, and as if further proof of a dump job was necessary, double lividity along the front and left side is visible through the few patches of flesh visible.. There's also evidence of possible sodomy due to the crude stitches to the rectal area.

The sickly smell that emanates from the body is thankfully dissipated into open night air. The smell is most likely what alerted the couple to body in the first place, though it could have been worst. It was a good thing that the body was not wrapped up - concentrated corpse odor has sent many a brave police or CSI running for the nearest gutter or toilet. Still, the smell was strong enough to force both CSIs to breathe thought heir mouth to minimize the smell's effects.

"Think the guy liked spiders?" Brass asked. He had finished collecting statements and contact information from the couple and had come over to Warrick at the foot of the alleyway to share his meager details.

With a dry chuckle he replies, "What would be your first clue?" Quickly sobering he asks who found him.

"Romeo and Juliet over there. A.K.A. John and Samantha Smith, newlyweds from Quebec, went down the alley for a little "quality time" . Saw the body, called it in."

"John Smith?"

Brass gives a half shrug."It's legit. I checked the licence."

"Okay, what about the stores?"

"Both closed for the holiday weekend."

"Holiday? What holiday?"

"Forth of July. You know red, white and blue, mom's apple pie etc. etc."

"Yeah I get it, no help from them. What about the apartment building across the street? They would have a clear view of the alley. Maybe someone caught a glimpse of something."

"I'm going to take one of the guys and head over there right now. I'm not holding my breath though, between the holiday and people just not wanting to get involved I doubt we'll get anything useful."

"Damn, this guy is good." Frustration is evident in Warrick's voice. It pains him to admit even to himself that they may have met their match. Either their killer was some kind of criminal mastermind or he was the luckiest person on the planet.

Brass gives the younger man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He then waves one of his men over and disappears into the building across the street.

Warrick joins Catherine and David with the victim.

Catherine was so immersed in taking photos of the body and of the alleyway itself that she did not acknowledge her colleague. David had finished his prelims and was standing to the side, awaiting the okay to cart off the body.

"Hey David, how's it going?"

"Good, and yourself?"

"Can't complain."

Waiting for Catherine to stop taking pictures, he then bends down near the corpse to get a better look."What do we have?"

Joining Warrick, David points to the back of the victim's head and to the two small neat holes that are visible.

"Like I told Catherine, C.O.D. looks to be two gunshot wounds to the back of the head, he would've died quickly."

"Can you tell how long he's been dead?"

"Judging by lack of rigor and double lividity, I'd say 36-48 hours, maybe more, maybe less. Without ambient temperature it's going to be extremely difficult to be exact. I'll have to run tests back at the morgue to be more precise."

Standing over David's stooped form Catherine makes her presence known. In her right hand are several swabs each colored a bright pink."Well boys, I say someone has been watching too many crime dramas."

David responds. "What makes you think that?"

Catherine shrugs her shoulder, even she is unsure at the moment of what she means - it's just a weak theory right now."It just seems the crime scene is overly staged, overly dramatic, I almost expect a director to come out and yell cut. And it's not just this one, the two that proceed it are the same way. All the victims were placed in a particular position, killed execution style with two bullets from a small caliber gun at close range. The lack of physical evidence suggests someone who is familiar with forensics. The message on the wall in blood, suggests someone who is familiar with their television."

She then points to the wall opposite them. Like the two previous this one also came with a single word message. Written in blood in neat print two feet high is a single word:

**PEDOPHILE.**

"Same guy I take it?" Warrick asks.

Getting up he stares intently at Catherine. He can tell by the tightness in her eyes that unlike the previous two victims this one is getting under her skin.

"Wouldn't doubt it." She responds. "But we better get him to the lab to run the usual tests. At least it will be easy to ID him. All we have to do is run his fingerprints through the sex offenders database."

_Or you could tell me right now and save us all some time and effort._ Warrick doesn't say anything though, Catherine is a professional and he trusts her.

Placing the swabs in a protective tubes she labels them and puts them into her case. She then turns her back on both of them effectively dismissing them.

David takes this as his sign. He takes several medium size brown bags and places hands, feet and lastly the head carefully into thir own bag. Normally this procedure would ensure the safe transport of possible nail scrappings and to protect head injuries from possible cross-contamination, but in this case the hands and feet are covered more out of habit. After the bags are secured he signals his crew to come and collect the body.

Warrick exits the alley to check for possible shoe or tire treads on the side walk or street. But he is holding out little hope of that. Their killer has proven in the past to be very adept at covering their tracks and leaving little to no physical evidence behind.

A half dozen people have gathered as close to the scene as the yellow tape would allow. Just returning from a night out they are dressed to impress in their club going outfits. The men and women rubber-neck and gawk at the scene before them. A feeling of disgust at their behavior washes over Warrick. _Have they no respect for the dead _he thinks in anger. Turning his head away from the crowd he sighs in resignation as he takes his digital camera out and puts his mind back on the job. He knows that so long as they keep their distance there is nothing he can do.

Well almost nothing - secretly he takes a few photos of the crowd. It's the vain hope that the old adage about criminal returning to the scene of the crime will in this case prove to be true. Whoever did this must have an ego the size of Texas by now and maybe, just maybe his ego will compel him to check out his handiwork in person.

Pulling out his maglite and putting his camera away he scours the pavement to the edge of the yellow tape as well as the trash barrel and its surrounding area outside the convenience store. He even gets on his hands and knees looking for any physical evidence. Ignoring the snickers and hungry eyed looks from the couple of women standing at the tape he is hoping for a stray hair, a fiber, _anything _at this point. The street and the sidewalks in the immediate area of the alley are both spotlessly clean. Even the trash can is sporting what looks to be a brand new garbage bag. The scene is _too clean_ to be just tax dollars at work. Whoever killed and dumped the body must have timed the dump for just before the city sweepers drove by not to mention the small amount of cleaning he did on his own.

Warrick gets a sick feeling in his stomach that they might be dealing with two killers working as a team. It didn't seem possible to him that one person could carry, dump and position the body _and then _have time enough to clean to such a degree without any witnesses.

He takes a large brown evidence bag from the back of the Tahoe and carefully places the garbage bag inside sealing it with evidence tape. He is grateful there is only a couple of pieces of trash inside. He then dusts the outside rim of the barrel, but his luck doesn't hold. The barrel has no fingerprints on it.

While Warrick processes the area outside the alley, Catherine processes the alley itself. The body has been taken away a couple of minutes ago, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She's starting to regret not bringing a coat with her. Even though she knows the chill in her bones has absolutely nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the latest victim. Not that she would ever take herself off the case. Pride alone will nullify that option. Furthermore, _she is _not about to expose herself to Gil because he sure as hell is going to want to know why she wants to switch cases and she sure as hell is not going to tell him. Friend or no friend.

Despite her resolve to see the case through though, she can't help but steal glances at the wall as she works.

_Pedophile _- the word keeps playing in her head like a broken record. She _had _lied to Warrick and what's more is, not only does he know she lied but he is not going to let her drop it until he finds out the whole ugly story. Warrick can be like a dog with a bone when it comes to uncovering the truth - a useful trait when investigating a crime but frustrating to say the least when one is trying to avoid painful memories best left buried. He made her face her ever mixed emotions about Eddie's death two years ago and she just knows he's going to force her to do the same with her childhood memories - no matter how badly she wants to avoid the topic.

The truth is, she had known the victim. She had met him in another lifetime but she would never forget his face no matter how many years have gone by or how many tattoos he covers himself with. His name was Marcus James back then but she knows that wasn't his real name. He changed his name so many times, as did she, during their time together, that even if he had told her his real name at some point she would not recognize it. But at the time she didn't care, she just wanted to get the hell out of Montana and she saw him as her ticket to freedom. She was fifteen, young, angry at her mother and the world, and small town naive when she met him. She didn't know back then of all the evils man could inflict on a child.

Shaking her head to clear it and prevent unwanted images from entering she finishes taking photos and puts her camera away. She knows she is starting to shake. The carefully constructed, well-maintained wall she thought she erected over that part of her life is starting to show cracks. Tiny tremors have assailed her hands and she has to pause several seconds before she can continue.

Taking in the alley with her naked eyes she tries to ascertain any clues their killer may have left behind unwittingly through the sheer force of her will.

The alleyway itself is unremarkable - you see one you seen them all. Catherine wonders to herself what makes this one so special and makes a mental note to check and see if the three dump sites have any connections to each other. There might be a clue if not to the killer himself then to a possible motivation, maybe they can even get a profile started.

Standing at the entrance she snaps on latex gloves as a precaution - just in case she finds something and pulls out her maglite from her case. The entrance is about twelve feet wide. Bending down at the waist to get a better view she slowly meticulously walks alongside the brick wall shining her maglite and searching the perimeter. The wall goes on for thirty feet before it comes to a dead end. The brick wall connects the two stores in a "U" formation.

The building is two stories high, the first floor is devoted to business and the second floor is for residential use. Each store has a service door which is two feet wider than their respective street entrances allowing deliveries to be easily received.

There are four, large, black, plastic wheeled trash cans lining the alley way. Two barrels resided against the wall on each side of the service entrances. Each one looked like they were fifty gallons and each wears their respective store's name in large white letters. Deciding to save those for last she continues to creep alongside the wall paying particular attention to any nooks that may have caught a stay hair or fiber.

Several minutes later and Catherine is still silently working. She is so intent on what she is doing she doesn't hear the return of her two colleagues until Brass clears his throat nearly causing her to jump out of her skin. For a quick moment a look passes over her face. It was as if for a split second she didn't recognize the two men.

Reaching out to her, Brass steadies her into a standing position only letting go when he is sure she is okay.

"Sorry Cath, are you okay?"

Looking a little embarrassed she replies. "Yeah, of course."

Brass shoots a look to Warrick that says he doesn't believe her for a second and the younger man gives a barely perceivable shake of the head indicating neither does he. But they both let it slide - for now.

Turning back towards their strawberry-blonde companion they watch as she straightens her shirt. When she looks up at the two men her professional mask is back in place. Any embarrassment at having been caught with her guard down has been quickly forgotten.

"So what do boys got for me?"

"Whole lota nothin" Brass responds. "The neighbors are either not home or ignoring us- either way no witnesses."

Catherine sighs in discouragement. "So far I got nothing here as well. Which makes me think we need to come back. We also need to get the video tape from the traffic light cameras." she throws her hands up in exasperation. "Someone has got to have seen something." this new case is just starting and it already feels like they are grasping at straws.

Both men nod their head in agreement. They had each come to the same consensus separately and Brass had already planned on not only making a return visit but getting his hands on that tape. He knows from years of experience that his window of time for retrieving the tape is slender. The city only keeps them so long before they are erased and recorded over.

"Our guy, is not only getting bolder he is escalating at an alarming pace." Warrick adds. "The first body was found in an abandoned where house, the second body was found in the middle of a parking lot both places with little to no possibilities of a witness. _This one _is left across the street from an apartment building."

"He's mocking us gentlemen. He thinks we can't catch him and personally I don't like being mocked."

"None of us do." Brass says. "We'll catch him. We always do."

After a short pause Catherine tells them to go back to the lab, hand in their reports, go home and get some sleep. They'll come back to the lab at ten to resume the investigation. She then returns to her former task.

"You sure? I can stay and help or better yet, my offer still stands. You go home and spend time with Lindsey."

She merely brushes him off . "I'll be fine. There's two cops at the entrance. If I need anything I promise, I'll call them."

After several more minutes of both men trying unsuccessfully to change their stubborn friend's mind, they both give in to her arguments and leave - though not without much misgivings. Before he leaves, Warrick reluctantly hands Catherine his keys to the Tahoe. He is loath to leave her alone. Brass, meanwhile stands at the foot of the alley and warns the two officers, that if even one hair on her head is out of place he'd have both their badges and their balls.

Warrick chuckles silently to himself. He has no doubt that the older man is dead serious in his threat. Still, he worries about leaving her alone at a crime scene. The logical part of his brain knows the odds of the killer blowing his cover by making his presence known and attacking again are minuscule. But the illogical, emotional part of his mind, that is overly protective of his friend doesn't see it that way. He doesn't think he can handle another Holly Gribbs on his conscience especially if it were Catherine. But in the end there's nothing he can do, he has to trust that she knows what she's doing. Because as brilliant as she is as a criminalist she can be twice as stubborn and ultimately he can't force her to do _anything _she doesn't want to.

Catherine pauses to stare after the two men driving off. When she hears the sound of the engine recede, she heaves a sigh of relief. She couldn't believe she pulled that off. She was certain that Warrick would stay even against her wishes.

It had been a long time since she had thought about that pain filled period of her life. She thought she had put it and him permanently behind her. She thought if she never thought about that period of her life it could never effect her as an adult.

She was wrong.

Because a piece of that life is now riding off to the Morgue. Dead and cold, he can't hurt her or anyone else- at least not physically. Mentally though the scars run deep and no matter how hard she tries to bury them or forget them- the scars remain.

They exist beside the blood, pain and fear of her childhood memories.


End file.
